To describe the city of Caloran in one word; gleaming would certainly be one of the first things to mind. The city seemed to shine in every sense of the word. The buildings of smooth silver and glass glowed morning and night. The skyscrapers touched the heavens and Caloran itself stretched as far as the eye could see. These beautiful and unique buildings seemed to be organic in a way, with each building having patterns that flowed seamlessly into the other buildings giving the whole city a uniformly luminous aesthetic. All these buildings however paled in comparison to Palace de Calor at the northmost point of the city.
The royal castle was the definition of picturesque; uniquely carved from sapphire crystal and intricately designed to mimic the greatest patterns seen in nature. The blue owl banner of House Alisand hung over the great wonder of the world. At first glance one could mistake this city for Idaner work, Gwyn thought.
At first glance of course, then you would notice the bustle, the noise, and the overall lack of empathy. The city was a trade-centre and the capital of a Kingdom that had grown too fast. People didn’t care for each other in Caloran anymore—they focused on striking it rich, which was an almost impossible prospect these days. Massed walked through the street as if they were alone and the city coursed with nauseating magical energy that powered everything.
Gwyn sighed. She was a relatively tall woman—lithe and toned. Her face was caressed by short red hair that contrasted heavily against her freckled dark brown skin. Her hair burned like a flame in the daylight. Some appreciated it but to her it was an eternal sign of her foreign heritage. Not that that mattered anymore. She had worked hard her whole life and now it had been repaid. She was now in the upper echelons of Caloran society—she was a member of the Crystal Guard.
The Kingdom was strong and relatively prosperous, but it had a dark underbelly of crime. Outlaws roamed the countryside, and it was the Crystal Guards duty to stop that crime from infecting the heart of Calorland, Caloran. They were easily the best warriors in the Kingdom and instantly recognisable with shield-plate armour, a flowing blue cloak and an amber gem necklace, that housed powerful magical energy to enhance the physical prowess of the guard. They were an age-old order, older than the Kingdom itself. And now Gwyn was among them.
She peered down from the ledge of the building. She had been tracking her target for weeks now. And now she had caught up to him. The infamous Black-Cloak Robyn; a notorious outlaw with extremely powerful magic. She clutched her necklace and gulped. Deep breaths, she thought.
Robyn and his associate, Scadlock the quick, were sneaking through an unusually vacant alleyway. They were hooded figures, as the former’s namesake suggests, and were trying not to attract any attention. A fool attempt, Gwyn thought.
Black-Cloak Robyn’s crimes were numerous and his motives unknown. Sometimes it felt like he had a personal vendetta against Calorland itself. But that ends here and now. Gwyn leapt of the ledge bringing her sword down into the ground with a thunderous crash that split the tile.
Robyn seemed momentarily surprised but in the next instant the flat alleyway had turned into a raised slope sending Gwyn tumbling far away from the criminals. The outlaw smirked before floating up to the top of the alley. Don’t underestimate me, Gwyn thought. The energy of the amber gem, coursing through her veins, allowed her to plunge her feet into the stone and march up the slope.
She swung her sword at the fugitives. The blade cut through them easily. Gwyn’s eyes widened. Corporeal vapour clung to the sword. An illusion!
Gwyn’s brows furled. Her grip on her sword tightened. Clop, clop, clop… she darted her head around to see the outlaws escaping via the roof of the nearby building. Oh no you don’t. She focused on the glowing sparks of energy contained within her necklace. It shone like a star in the dingy alleyway. She felt the power build up inside her; a warm, feverish sensation—she shouldn’t have been using its energy for this long.
She squatted to the ground. Her calves quaking with strength and adrenaline. BOOM! She shot off into the air like a rocket and landed onto the rooftop with a crash.
“Pertinacious, aren’t you,” Robyn said.
“Don’t worry, he prides himself in his vocabulary,” Scadlock smiled.
Robyn had a nasally voice with an air of arrogance to it; the punchable kind. Scadlock on the other hand seemed to be more grounded; Gwyn could see herself chatting with him over a drink if he wasn’t a criminal.
As she charged to the duo, she could feel the power of the necklace begin to wane. She had to finish this. She unsheathed her sword.
The silver blade shimmered and hissed as it was released from the prison of its sheath. With the blink of an eye, it struck the notorious criminal. There was a reason as to why she had been promoted so quickly. Robyn, mouth wide open, reached for his own blade but his skills were no match for hers.
Scadlock rushed into the conflict only to receive a sharp kick from Gwyn. His body dissolved into a light blue smoke. Another illusion. Gwyn turned to see Robyn missing. Out of nowhere, a blade darted into her armour, coming just short of puncturing it. Teleportation. She swivelled round with her sword to meet Robyn.
“Enough of these dirty tricks!” she cried.
“I think you’ll find that that’s our profession,” Robyn smirked.
She lunged forward with her sword only for Robyn to teleport again. Sure, she had magical enhancements, but she couldn’t use sorcery herself. There was no way she was winning this fight. Unless she changed her goal.
She placed her hand into her leather pouch discreetly. Every Crystal Guard had tracker devices. Small gadgets that reacted to the magical flow of a sorcerer—their second heartbeat essentially. The gadget would send a signal which would in turn change her necklace to a bluish shade if Black-Cloak Robyn was nearby. She nearly laughed at her own genius.
Robyn tried to meet her with his short blade again but this time she grabbed his wrist and began to crush it with astonishing strength.
“OUCHIE!” Robyn cried out.
“Let him go!” Scadlock shouted.
“It’s alright she’ll let go when she realises, we’re fading through the roof,”
Gwyn looked down—it was true. It was almost as if the two outlaws had taken on the forms of ghosts and were no longer bound by the laws of physics. First their feet were under the roof, then their shins and now just their torsos were visible.
“As you may have deduced, guard lady, you ought to let go before your hand get stuck in this roof—and I assume that you don’t have sorcery of your own to let you out?”
“You assume correctly,” Gwyn said with disgust, as she let go of his wrist.
“Now that I notice… you do have a lovely voice…Perhaps we could meet again?”
The only thing that remained of him was a single hand, waving above the roof as he slid through. Eventually there was nothing left of the two.
Gwyn lied out flat on the rooftop, trying to rest and recover from over usage of her necklace—it had to be charged once and a while, by stealing energy from her and converting it into magical energy. That was the only caveat. Luckily, she hadn’t gone far enough that a little rest couldn’t fix.
Oh, we’ll meet again all right—when the tracker that I placed on your wrist reveals to me your location.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha…” she began to laugh, before remembering how sore she was “Oww,”
She made her way back to the Crystal Fortress, the headquarters of the guard. It was split into two buildings, both on either side of Palace de Calor. The buildings were made out of some sort of silver tessellated material. Its sharp design didn’t take away from the beauty of the palace, however, they seemed like they complimented each other, the palace enhanced the strength of the fortress, and the fortress enhanced the palace’s beauty.
The fortress on the inside was mainly pale brown; guards didn’t need fancy housing. The entire building took on that minimalist ethos; The stairs were heavily brutalist and there wasn’t a single window—the light from the amber necklaces was enough.
Gwyn made her way through the fortress, limping slightly. She clambered up the stairs and eventually found herself at her chambers. She creaked open the door to be met with her roommate, Lysand.
Lysand was clearly of Idani heritage, the golden skin and silky hair and subtle mannerisms that could only be noticed but not replicated. She was slightly shorter than Gwyn but equally as strong.
“You were gone long…” Lysand smiled.
“Big job,” Gwyn smiled back.
“Tracking Black-Cloak, again?”
“I fought him this time…”
Lysand’s jaw dropped. She sat Gwyn down on the bed in the corner of the room.
“That couldn’t have possibly ended well…”
Gwyn laughed.
“Understatement,”
“What exactly happened?”
Gwyn scratched her face with embarrassment.
“I underestimated his magic and nearly ended up with my hand stuck to a roof,”
“Yikes. You need to be careful—Black-Cloak is, apparently, of noble birth; he’s prolly had the best magical training money can afford…”
“Noble birth? What would drive an aristocrat to commit crime?”
“Light knows. Just be wary about him…”
“I’m so close to getting some answers, Lysand,”
“Just make sure you don’t endanger yourself in the process…In fact…”
Lysand leapt off the bed.
“Get some rest,” she exclaimed.
“I did,”
Lysand raised an eyebrow.
“…On a rooftop,”
The two laughed.
“Seriously, get some rest—I’ll make an excuse for you at the drills,”
“Thank you, Lysand,”
“It’s only the beautiful thing to do,”
Sleep came easy to Gwyn, her eyes hung heavy and soon everything faded away…
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